


Have Fun Stormin' the Castle!

by RansomNotes



Series: Happy Steve Bingo [3]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Nomad (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Steve Bingo, M/M, Movie Night, Nomad Steve Rogers, Pre-Relationship, Slut Shaming, The Princess Bride References, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tony Stark is a college student, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RansomNotes/pseuds/RansomNotes
Summary: Happy Steve Bingo 2019Tony was assaulted, and then rescued by a masked vigilante. So naturally, he's gonna try for a movie night with the man in black, and like all of Tony's genius ideas, it works out better than expected...(Or, Tony brought home a silicone dream-date but then stumbled right into a real-life one!)
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Happy Steve Bingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561972
Comments: 7
Kudos: 88
Collections: Happy Steve Bingo 2019





	Have Fun Stormin' the Castle!

**Author's Note:**

> In this universe, Steve was found in the ice while Tony was a teenager, and by the time of our story, when Tony is in college, Steve has given up the shield and secretly become Nomad.
> 
> Hints of Tony's Iron Man future, but for now he's just a college student, and younger than Steve, but definitely legal.
> 
> Some references to The Princess Bride movie; hopefully you've seen it, cause it's a classic, anyway.
> 
> Trigger Warning: Tony is attacked and threatened with sexual assault, and while Steve saves him before anything happens, there's still slut-shaming and angst and Tony's regretful memories of his early college years when he was grieving and acting out, with references to drug and alcohol abuse, so, be aware, please.

Tony hummed along and varied his steps to the music pounding through his headphones, a good distraction from the cold dark night. Well, early early morning, really, since Tony never came home before midnight, whether he was partying at a frat he’d dragged Rhodey to, or drinking sullenly at a bar before taking home absolutely anyone who looked his way after a bad reminder of his dad (which was to say, ANY reminder of his dad), or stuck up to his eyeballs in tech gears and guts in the school robotics lab, like tonight.

He was making some real advancements in robotics, but unfortunately, none of it was directly applicable to his PhD thesis work, and so tonight counted more as pleasure than business, though any progress was helpful overall, sure, so he was in as good a mood as if he’d been drunk and grinding on some hot young dumb thing all night instead of grinding away at metal gears in the fabrications lab.

He lived off campus, in the shittiest row of industrial lofts on this side of the city, Rhodey had pronounced it, but it was conveniently walkable, right between campus and a cluster of late-night bars and hole-in-the-wall restaurants. And Tony certainly enjoyed many of the luxuries of wealth, but he wasn’t particularly prone to flaunting it, so affordable housing filled with top-of-the-line sound system was more his speed. Oh, and couldn’t forget the decadent espresso machine! Plus, most importantly, he’d snagged exclusive access to the warehouse space underneath the row of apartments, which did, regrettably, house some raucous young ‘entrepreneurs,’ or, well, drug dealers, but since he could weld and work on other fabrication in the warehouse at all hours, before walking straight upstairs to collapse face-first in bed, it was still a great set-up overall.

He juggled his long-empty coffee thermos, backpack, huge un-stapled data collection reports from his robotics tests tonight, and a small cardboard box, trying to get to his keys. He huffed a quiet curse as he remembered that he’d broken off his door key trying to open the cardboard box in his arms earlier that day. Don’t get him wrong, it was very worth it, a sacrifice any key should be willing to make, because the discreetly unbranded box contained a Captain America-themed dildo. Yes, really.

Honestly, Tony loved all mail, which was all sent to his university address, because anything left at his door would be stolen for sure, but everything he got was usually fantastic pieces to use in his lab work. This was just--uhhh, extra-curricular. And to be fair, Tony also loved all mail and  _ male _ , gotta give it up for homophones, ahh, little wordplay there he’d have loved to torture Rhodey with. Actually, the knowledge of the mere existence of a Captain America-themed sex toy would torture Rhodey too, as a military man and respectful fanboy.

But enough about Rhodey, the point was, oh, Tony loved Captain America, too, but in some decidedly less professionally respectful ways. His childhood hero-worship had already been developing into some confusingly patriotic boners during puberty when Captain America had been discovered in the ice. Whew, that summer when Captain Rogers had been everywhere in the news, saving the world and railing against modern politics, splashed on every paper and magazine cover, all righteous anger and a jawline so strong Tony’d almost formed a fetish for jaws, and America’s tight, delectable ass popping out of that absurd costume uniform they dressed him up in… Honestly, there might be an alternate universe where teenaged Tony had died of dehydration that summer, locked in his room with piles of Captain America media, blissful smile on his face and carpal tunnel in his wrists.

So when he’d seen the online ad for the dildo, he’d laughed-- and then he’d cleared his throat and ordered it, with expedited shipping.

Anyway, back to the present, just like poor Cap had been whisked forward several decades to save the world only to eventually quit and drop off the map a few years later, in the here and now Tony scrabbled around for his hidden key in the loose bricks to the side of the door, and cheered as he found it, and then sighed deeply at the feel of a gun at the back of his neck, bumping the headphones out of his ears.

“Open up the door, nice and slow, and then lay on the ground, don’t look at me, got it?” The boy’s voice was thin and tense, and Tony was pretty sure it was a teenager, probably trying to score drug money. 

“Listen, Thelma and Louise, everything in there is worth more to me than it is to the pawn shops, so just leave my laptop and take the cash out of my wallet, alright? Back right pocket, c’mon, just grab the money and don’t make me go replace my ID, huh?”

There was a long pause as the kid snagged his wallet and must have been debating if it was good enough, but in the meantime he was standing awfully close, gun still braced against Tony’s head.

“Tony Stark? THE Tony Stark?” the guy exclaimed, and Tony heaved an internal sigh. It always complicated things when anyone recognized his name. If this dude knew he was heir to the Stark fortune, this could turn into some messy hostage thing, though it had been years since anything like that had happened. After Howard Stark’s death, and the company’s ostensibly temporary transfer to Obadiah Stane (until and unless Tony ever took over), everyone sort of forgot about Tony, which really really worked for him. 

“Wow, you’re that slut from all those college parties! Damn, I hadn’t really looked at you yet, I wonder if I could’ve recognized you with your clothes on, and your mouth shut!” He was laughing and leering, and pressing up against Tony, trapping him against the still-locked door with the gun still bruising his neck, and Tony was drowning in shame. He’d been mostly good lately, or at least, only ordinarily bad, with just the occasional drunken one-night-stand, like any Hollywood-glorified college experience. But during his first few years on-campus, only 16 and with both his parents dead overnight, and the weight of the world on his shoulders, he’d gone absolutely feral at first. He passed his classes and tested out of most everything, moving into masters programs right away, but that was the family genius, with his own unique twist of brilliance under pressure, and had nothing to do with how well he’d been coping, or rather,  _ not _ coping. In his personal life, he’d been an absolute mess, a complete trainwreck, and if he’d spent more than one night consecutively alone in his own bed, it was purely sleeping off the benders he’d go on. 

So it was entirely plausible, and totally stomach-churning to think now, that this guy had seen everything Tony couldn’t even remember from his blackout party days. Tony had eventually met Rhodey, the roommate of one of Tony’s hookups, and that friendship had been a lifeline, the only stable land in the sea of alcohol and cocks he’d been drowning in back then, and it was an absolute gut-punch to be reminded, and humiliated all over again, about those days, and all the things he’d willingly done, or been forced to do, while drunk or high out of his mind. 

Tony was trying to stammer out some denial or argument, or anything, as the guy was pushing on his shoulders, to turn him around and force him to his knees. 

“Tell you what, slut, if your tongue’s as good as everyone always said, I’ll even let you keep most of the cash! Now blow my mind or I’ll blow your brains out, huh, whaddya say, whore?”

Without really stopping to think about it, because when did he ever do that, Tony opened his mouth and started shit-talking, and while the memory later of what he’d said was fuzzy, but almost definitely involved some emphatic nos, and many aspersions cast on the mugger’s mother, Tony would never forget the sharp pain and taste of blood when he was backhanded with the gun, and the way the concrete floor was cold and gritty under his cheek, the faint tinny sound of music still blaring out from his headphones on the ground near him. And then, most memorable of all, the man in black appearing out of nowhere and pummeling the mugger. From his vantage point on the ground, a little disoriented, it was like those old comic hero shows, with the telegraphed hits and crazy sound effects, and it may seem unlikely that the random rescuer punched the bad guy straight up into the ceiling of the hallway, but it sure looked like that was what happened. 

The apparent vigilante hero helped Tony sit up against the wall and then dragged the mugger out of the building, the unconscious mugger’s leaden feet clunking down each step of the staircase as they went.

Tony winced and shifted his jaw, feeling the impact from the hit, and leaned his head back, just reflecting for a moment on the strange turn the night had taken. He’d been rescued by bodyguards before, sure, it was a fact of life growing up wealthy. And he’d been hit hard and slut-shamed before, plenty of times, that was a fact of life growing up with a big mouth and no filter. But the whole night had an air of unreality to it, something about it happening at his own front door, and involving some kind of superhero. 

* * *

He was still sitting there, idly contemplating his life and everything that had led him to this moment, when the vigilante returned.

“Hey, hey, are you with me? Are you alright?”

He’d patted Tony’s shoulders, and gently tipped his head a bit to look at his face.

“Fine and dandy, thanks for the save, stranger.” The man had pulled him up and slung his arm around him, supporting him, and while Tony didn’t technically need that, the muscles under the tact suit were very pleasantly distracting, and in his stressed state, that was practically medicinal, so. 

“I’m-- Call me Nomad,” the stranger said, and leaned Tony against the door frame as he grabbed the fallen keys from the floor and opened the door. Tony stayed leaning as Nomad eased the door open and guided Tony in, then stepped back, to stay in the hallway.

Nomad looked up and caught Tony’s eyes, through the minimal mask. “You’re really alright, though?”

“I really really am, thanks to you, anonymous hero. But you should  come in and have a cup of coffee with me, just to be sure I’m not concussed. My name’s Tony, maybe check again in an hour to make sure I can still tell how many fingers you’re holding up.” He wasn’t feeling his very best, no, but he still pushed as much charm as he could muster, because he was deeply grateful, yes, and Nomad was a gorgeously built do-gooder, and God, if that wasn’t catnip to Tony, even if he wasn’t actually planning a seduction of the masked stranger. Because that would be crazy. 

Right? 

So that was definitely not what he was doing. 

_ Ahem _ .

Nomad hemmed and hawed at the doorway for a few moments, but when Tony tried to smile wider, and winced a little at the bruised corner of his mouth, Nomad nodded. 

“Well, alright. Thank you, that would be very kind.”

He still stood in the doorway though, hesitating.

“So you’re a midnight masked hero, but are you also a vampire?” At the quizzical look, Tony continued, “Y’know, because you have to be formally invited inside, or you can’t cross the threshold? Please do come in,” and he gave an exaggerated flourishing gesture.

Nomad shook his head but walked in, smiling just a bit, and settling awkwardly on the counter stool Tony had indicated. Tony was still fussing with the coffee machine, one of the few visible objects reflecting his wealth in the relatively sparse loft, when Nomad got back up. 

“No, please, Nomad, stay!”

“I-- yes, I will, I just wanted to get all your things, they’re still on the floor out there.”

Tony nodded, appeased, and Nomad carefully gathered up all the fallen items scattered around the hallway, placing them all on the coffee table in the living room, just a few steps away in front of the door.

“Thanks again, ooh, do you have a Yelp? I’ve gotta leave you a glowing review. I’ll say something about your ‘mysterious good looks,’ too, and maybe throw in something about ‘shoulders broad enough to carry the whole world.’” 

Nomad smiled and looked away. “So I should go by Atlas instead then?”

“No, no, there’s not enough flair with that. But with this outfit and physique, you’d only need to change the mask up a tiny bit and you could call yourself the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

At the confused reaction, he sputtered, “Oh, Nomad, please tell me you’ve seen The Princess Bride, it’s a classic!”

At the shrug and headshake, Tony had tutted and said, “Okay, look, is it late enough that you’re done rescuing hapless strangers like me, or do you still have a few more hours to your superheroing shift and your super-supervisor will yell at you?”

“Sometimes I stay out a little later, but it’s pretty close to quittin’ time.”

“Perfect, excellent, it’s settled, here, come sit on the couch, I’ll bring you coffee and I think I’ve got biscotti, or we can make popcorn, and here, here, get comfy. Okay, and I can return the favor: you saved my life, and I’ll make your life, right here and now, with a great movie. And hey! If you do decide to take any of the sartorial suggestions, you might even get to count this as work-related! Do you need continuing education credits as a superhero, cause the action in this is great fun, possibly very inspirational and educational.”   


Nomad had looked hesitant at first still, but something about Tony’s chatter seemed to settle him, which was a bit unusual, actually, but regardless, he let himself be led to the couch, and sat stiffly as Tony got the coffee and set-up the movie.

Tony got up for snacks... and when Nomad distractedly ate more than his half, he got up again, several times. The man was zoned in on the movie nearly from the get go, but when he finally noticed the multiple snack refills, and apologized, Tony had quickly paused the movie for the first time, and waved him off, going to pop pizza rolls in the oven. He didn’t stock that much variety in his house, or particularly good-quality foods, but he made up for it in quantity, which the stranger seemed to appreciate well enough.

“Oh, please, it’s the least I could do. Besides, I’m Italian, it’s in my bones to feed everyone to bursting, and anyway, everyone knows growing vigilantes need their calories!”

The man in black had smiled. “Your mom was Italian, then?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. She was. She could be very warm and loud and just a tiny little spitfire, sometimes… But, well, you know, life can grind you down.” He’d trailed off, looking down at the coffee grounds he’d been about to put in the machine for another round, but when he looked up, the man just looked sympathetic. 

“I understand.”   


“It’s not that she gave up, or anything,” he hurried to add, but the stranger still only looked caring, not judgmental. “But she just faced a lot of, umm, difficulties, and disappointments, and eventually she had to prioritize, you know, like, she could have let it all crush her entirely, or she could survive, and look for the chances to find enough space to be herself, whenever, wherever, they came around.”

The man in black looked contemplative. “I didn’t know your mom, but I swear to you, I do understand. As much as someone in an entirely different circumstance can, but. I’ve made choices like that, too, accepting that sometimes to stay true to yourself you have to retreat to move forward, even if that doesn’t feel like a decision you would ever have made, but sometimes, it’s all you can do.”

Tony nodded, and, trying to distract himself from the heavy emotions, started unpacking his backpack.

In the lull in conversation, Tony groaned as he pulled out the repulsor gauntlet he’d been working on, stuffed in the bottom of his backpack. He might not have had the time to get it out during that whole confrontation with the mugger, and maybe he wouldn’t have had the chance to assemble it, let alone get a clear shot, but still, it felt a little embarrassing to have had a cool new weapon to test out waiting right at his fingertips and to have panicked so completely that he forgot all about it. 

Nomad was looking questioningly at him, and he briefly explained, putting it together and talking about how it worked. It really was breakthrough technology, if a little unstable still, and the excitement colored his voice as he described all the pieces and how the idea had come to him. But then he petered out, and let his hand drop.

“Well. It is pretty cool, but it still didn’t help me at all in the hallway, there. What good is a tool, however well-designed, if you don’t remember to use it. If you can't even remember you have it! But I was just off my game, a little. Some of the stuff he said to me…”

Nomad had been listening intently, looking pensive, but now he interrupted.

“No, Tony, no, fight or flight is all you ever hear about, but freezing, feeling paralyzed, is a very normal reaction to a threat, too. It's not-- it's not right for you to act like you carry any blame for this, here, that was all on him. None of this was your fault, tell me you know that."

Tony nodded, somber, and scuffed his shoes on the tile.

"It's just...everything he said about me, it was true, that's the painful bit. Why it hits so hard, when I never listen to the haters, cause Mama always told me everyone's just jealous, and I  _ live  _ that, but not today. There's just something so brutal about your past hitting you out of nowhere. All the ghosts you thought you'd outrun, but you never really can, can you?"

The man looked pained, but so kind. 

"Nothing he said was true, even if what he mentioned happened, because he doesn't get to own your memories like that. I don't-- I can't live like that, like other people own my past, and I won't let you live like that either."

Tony's eyes were suspiciously bright, but he summoned up all the humor he could manage and quirked an eyebrow. " _ Let _ me, huh? You're gonna just march in here, all dangerous and alluring, and just take control of me, huh?"

He waited a beat for Nomad to stammer out the start of some sort of denial or apology before leaning in. "Don't threaten me with a good time, Nomad," and it wasn't a name that particularly lent itself to being purred out, but he put in a good attempt before sidling off to the other side of the kitchen, to give Nomad the space to respond or disregard.

When he didn’t reply right away, Tony worried he’d overstepped, and quickly grabbed another package of crackers and offered them to him, then bustled around in the kitchen for another moment or two, before saying, “Well, we’d better go finish the movie, right? You ready for a classic cinematic triumphal ending?”

There was a long pause before Nomad replied. “You know, Tony... how we were talking earlier about your mom. I may not have known her, but I think she must have been amazing, cause she’s clearly left her mark on you, from what you say, and you’re amazing.”

Tony blinked, hard, and hurriedly gulped some still-too-hot coffee. “Thanks, I-- thanks. I hope I am like her. All anyone who knew them ever sees when they look at me is my father,” and when Nomad looked down at that, added, “they’re uh, they’re both gone now.”

“My parents are both gone, too.”

They sat quietly a moment longer, and then Nomad stood. “Alright, well, I was promised a life-changing experience. Ready to finish the movie? ”

As they walked over to the couch and tv, Tony said, “You know, I worry about you, Nomad. How long have I known you, hundreds of minutes now, yes, fine, maybe just a single hundred of minutes, but still. Here’s what I know about you: you’re inhaling food like you’ve never eaten in your life, you’re cinematically and maybe culturally deprived, I’m just sayin’, and furthermore, I absolutely must know if you decide to switch to the Dread Pirate mask, maybe add a sword to your repertoire as well! So here’s what I’m thinking, listen up, I’m a genius, alright, so even after a bump on the head this is sure to be noteworthy information.” Nomad grinned and nodded. “Alright, then. I’m thinking,” and he spread his hands across the space between them like a banner, “WEEKLY MOVIE NIGHT! What do you think, do you like it or do you love it?”

The other man shook his head ruefully. “It’s a pretty good plan, but…”

“No, no buts, every-- what’s a quiet night in the vigilante world, what, Tuesdays?--So every Tuesday we’ll watch a movie and you can eat your body weight in snacks, and I’ll even be a kind dictator, cause while you definitely can’t choose any of the movies, you’re clearly hopeless if you’d never even seen Princess Bride, but next Tuesday I’ll tell you which movies I’m thinking, and you can maybe veto one or two. Or rearrange the schedule, or something. Whaddya say?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you win. As you wish, Tony.”

Tony froze for a moment at the weighted response, the quote from the movie, since he’d been happily one-way flirting all night and Nomad hadn’t given him very much feedback yet, only to hit him with  _ this _ , such a charming way to signify interest.  _ Whew _ .  _ Nomad coming in hot _ , he thought to himself.

“Okay. Okay! Great!” He rambled a little more as they settled back on the couch, but he was buzzing in anticipation. Here was hoping Nomad really did like him back, as he seemed to, and this night had somehow turned around completely.

When the movie ended, they chatted just a bit, but Tony kept yawning and grumbling mentally to himself that he was ruining this great moment, and sure enough, after the fourth yawn, Nomad sat forward.

“It’s about time I left, I think, but thanks for the movie. And the snacks. And the upcoming movies too, yeah, I guess, uh, I guess I’ll see you on Tuesday night then. A little earlier than this?”

Tony shrugged. “Whatever works for you. How about this, do you carry a cell phone when you’re crime-fighting? Let’s exchange numbers and we can settle a time on Tuesday, based on how well-behaved the criminal population is or isn’t that day?”

Nomad handed over a banged up flip phone, and Tony took it gingerly, jokingly holding it as though it were toxic, two fingers barely gripping it, held at arm’s length. “Oh Nomad, no, this is tragic. Let me build you something better, I’m begging you.”

“It’s just that I need something indestructible, you know? I can’t dodge every hit, and the protection of the suit can only do so much. The newer touchscreens, I wouldn’t get a full patrol out of them before they were in bits, I don’t think.”

Tony entered his phone number and added a winky face to the end of his name, then texted himself to get the number, and looked up. “I can build you something high-tech that isn’t high-maintenance, I’m telling you. Genius, remember,” and he tapped his own head with the flip phone and then pretended to be grossed out he’d put it close to his face.

Nomad snatched it back, laughing, and then surprised Tony by stepping closer and giving him a quick hug. 

Nomad stepped back quickly enough, though, as if flustered, and before Tony could fully recognize and commit to the hug. Nomad bumped into all of Tony’s stuff that had been left on the coffee table after being scattered on the hallway floor, and for the second time that night, the little cardboard box fell to the ground. But this time, the patched back tape didn’t hold, and it popped open, with the Captain America-branded dildo rolling out and landing right at Nomad’s feet.

And here was the thing: while Tony did often enough play up his shameless reputation, even he had every capacity to feel embarrassment, and he stared at the excruciatingly obvious red white and blue object, so undeniably phallic-shaped, with his face heating up and his stomach churning. It might not be fair to assume personality traits of someone simply because they selflessly risked life and limb to help others as an anonymous hero like Nomad, but he waited for the surely judgmental reaction and kept his gaze toward the floor. Even if Nomad were open-minded about sex toys, surely there would be something near-blasphemous to a vigilante do-gooder type about anyone owning a Captain America-themed one.

Nomad finally said, in a strangled voice,”Is that---”

Tony immediately fired back, as though if he got angry enough it could level out the interaction, or at least drown out the humiliation, or something. “A Captain America-themed, generously-sized dildo, with a patriotic striped and flared base, inset with blue Swarovski crystal? Yes.”

He finally looked up, fierce expression firmly on his face, and immediately boggled, and Nomad began to laugh, and laugh, hysterically. It was...not the reaction he was expecting. And after such a painfully long pause, too!

Nomad finally calmed down enough to notice Tony’s crossed arms and his equal-parts irked and relieved face.

“Oh, Tony, I’m sorry, oh hell, it’s just, you looked petrified when it fell, and then I nearly thought I was hallucinating it, who knew they made anything like this, let alone that anyone  _ bought _ it, and then, oh and then your furious expression, you looked ready to hit me with it if I insulted you for it.”

“Well, you did laugh at me, after all,” Tony mildly sulked.

“No, I’d rather be  _ with _ you.  _ Laughing  _ with you, I mean.”

Tony scrutinized his face, intrigued by the possible Freudian slip there, the innuendo. “Well, maybe I should hit you with it after all. Across the face, like a dueling glove.”

Nomad bent down to pick it up, the long lines of his body shown off to perfection in the smooth motion, and then slowly handed it over. “So I picked up the dueling glove. I’m a little rusty on medieval protocol, but I’m pretty sure that means I accept the challenge, doesn’t it?” He stepped closer.

Tony swallowed hard, and swayed even closer, angling for a kiss. This was a confusing turn of events, but Tony was never one to miss a great opportunity, and he wasn’t going to start now.

Nomad leaned down towards him, pausing just a breath away, and whispered against his lips. “There’s just one thing I disagree with you about,” he started, and Tony blinked at him. “The thing is, Tony, I don’t think they were anything but accurate in the sizing of this absolute work of art,” and he wrapped his hand around Tony’s wrist, of the hand holding the dildo, “and I also think... you could use  _ every inch _ of practice since you’re challenging me.” 

Tony gaped at him, falling easily onto the couch as Nomad gently nudged him over. 

“What was it you said earlier, Tony? ‘Don’t threaten me with a good time?’”

Tony face was shocked and rapturous, gazing up at the masked hero, gobsmacked but completely interested in the sudden turn the night had taken, yet again.

Then Nomad stepped back and away, and just before he slipped out the front door, he called back with a smirk, “Get some rest, I think we’ll both need it. See you on Tuesday, Tony!”

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-ed, yet again, so please let me know if you spot mistakes!
> 
> Alternate titles: "Mostly-Dead is still Slightly-Alive" or "Nomad's been mostly-dead all decade,"  
> and "Nomads of Unusual Size? I don't think they exist."


End file.
